


I Get Caught Up, Just For A Minute

by hariboo



Category: Still Star-Crossed (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 03:35:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13045659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hariboo/pseuds/hariboo
Summary: Looking at him over shoulder, Rosaline tenses as he approaches. His hand hovers by hers and it takes him a minute before he reaches out to her.





	I Get Caught Up, Just For A Minute

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eris_historia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eris_historia/gifts).



> title from Lorde's "The Louvre". I loved writing for them -- I missed them so much! I hope you like it!!

 

“You know, just because we’re married now doesn’t mean you get to boss me around!” Benvolio yells over his shoulder. 

 

Rosaline laughs, walking away from the breakfast table. “I think that’s exactly what it means, husband.” 

 

“It’s not like I had a choice, wife!” He says back, his tone joking, but half way through his statement the truth of it lands like a rotten apple in the middle of sunny day. Rosaline stops at the door leading out to their courtyard. Her hand rests at the threshold and she hears him move, mumbling to himself. Idiot, she hears and she knows he didn’t mean the words harshly. It still smarts, however. He is not wrong. She didn’t give him a choice in the end, did she? He’d been willing to give her up, to let her go, and she stood, Escalus’ blood on her gown, tears in her eyes, and married him. 

 

Looking at him over shoulder, she tenses as he approaches. His hand hovers by hers and it takes him a minute before he reaches out to her. 

 

“I didn’t, did I?” she says, feeling their fingers intertwined in his grip.

 

“No, you didn’t,” Benvolio whispers, bending his head to catch her eyes. “And I’ll be forever glad you didn’t, Rosaline.”  _ You saved me _ , goes unsaid, but she hears it anyway. They’ve come to know each other well so quickly.

 

“I meant my words in jest, you know.”

 

“I do.”

 

He smiles, touching her chin. Roseline mets his gaze and tries to smile back. “I actually like you bossing me around, you much nicer at it than my uncle and aunt ever were.”

 

She laughs now. It’s not forced, but something in his words still make her ache. His family is as terrible as hers, she’s come to accept, but at least she knew love from her father and mother, from Livia, who it still hurts to think about. Even her uncle loved her in his own way. But Benvolio has known no love for a long time, she’s aware. Not since Mercutio and Romeo, now dead, now ghosts in his eyes. 

 

It hurts more, because she’s aware of his feelings for her. 

 

The kiss in the prison has been something they’ve not spoken about. Their marriage, quick and in secret -- oh, how she thought of Juliet then -- had been to strengthen their families power in the city as Paris and Milan plotted to take Verona in the upheaval of the attempt on Escalus’ life. Their uncles had raged at being kept out of it, but ultimately they used it to fortify their forces. Montague gold paid Capulet soldiers. Verona had an army again. Isabella stood witness as acting regent. Escalus laid in his bed recovering. He was recovering still. 

 

Capulet and Montague were now bonded in God’s and Verona’s eyes. 

 

They stood together for Verona’s sake and their kiss had been prim and chaste. His eyes had been wide and scared, for himself, for her. He had asked a question solely with them and she had nodded. It was the best choice for all of them, their marriage, and if she was honest with herself Rosaline could not bear the thought of losing him, not now. 

 

He had not kissed her since. It’s been two weeks. 

 

Rosaline does not like to dwell on how much she’s thought about it since. 

 

He does not kiss her now. 

 

“I am your wife, after all,” she quips back, brightening her tone to match her laugh. Benvolio’s eyes sparkle as they always do when he makes her laugh. 

 

“You are,” he brings their hands to his lips and kisses her fingers. “The most wonderful wife I could have asked for.” Rosaline is forever grateful he’ll never be able to tell how much he makes her blush. 

 

“I did mean it though,” she steadies her voice. “Do not try to leave the city. Paris still has troops around. They are waiting for us to show weakness and I rather not be a widow so soon.”

 

He sighs, his fingers twitch in her grasp. She doesn’t know when she started clutching it as if her life depended on it, but it suddenly feels like it does. Their rings, matching gold, click together and Rosaline allows herself to want to love her husband as he does her. 

 

If only she could tell him that.

 

-

 

Benvolio keeps his promise, she’s made aware by the staff. He went around the city, talking to patrons and soldiers, entering a tavern or two according to his footman and she knows he’s looking for information about any leaks in Paris’ camp while trying to stay out of their uncles’ watchful eyes. Both of them know their current truce is tenuous at best, kept together by Rosaline and Benvolio’s quiet partnership. 

 

The maids tells her this as she helps with the washing. 

 

As lady of the house, she doesn’t need to do this, but her time as servant still marks her and she found the task to be slightly calming. It gave her something to do with her hands and kept her mind occupied on something else rather than all the troubles surrounding her. They had found it strange that new lady of the house -- Isabella had bequeathed Rosaline’s old house back to them -- found pleasure in such a menial task, but the fact of Rosaline having served as a servant in Lord Capulet’s home was no secret in Verona. 

 

“M’lady?” Matilda’s voice snaps Rosaline out of her thoughts. 

 

“Ah,” she smiles, wiping her hands on her apron. It lays over her fine dress, worn and soft, she thinks of Livia with a pang. “Yes, Matilda?”

 

“A letter has arrived for you, m’lady. It has a royal seal.” Matlida holds out the letter in question and Rosaline snatches it up like it’s air and she’s been underwater for too long. 

 

The letter is thick and the seal is Isabella’s. Rosaline remembers it from missives and the secret notes of their childhood. She blinks and rips it open. Insider there’s another letter and a small note. 

 

_ A friend has done us a great favour, _ says the note. Isabella.

 

The handwriting on the second letter is achingly familiar. Livia.

 

Rosaline rushes from the washroom, her hair falling from her pins, her fingers still damp making marks on the paper. 

 

_ Dearest Sister, _

 

_ I wish I could explain everything that is happening, but I barely have a moment to write as it is. I found someone that was willing to deliver this letter for me, for I know Paris will not let allow any communication to Verona. Oh! How I loved him, Rose! How I still do, but I promise, I PROMISE YOU, I did not know of his plans.  _

 

_ His plans with his father have been in play for a long time, from the little I’ve heard. They plot with many in the city still. Our aunt helped him! She wanted Juliet to marry him so she could be princess and safe.  He claims he loves me still, but while my heart believes him, my mind and soul at at odds. He keeps me from you and I miss you so much. I miss our house and how happy were were there.  _

 

_ I must end this now. I hope this gets you to, dear Rose.  _

 

_ Helena said she was friends with the princess, I hope her word is true. _

 

_ I will try to write again. Helena says she visits Milan often. I try again then. _

 

_ All my love,  _

 

_ Livia _

 

As she reads that final word, Rosaline collapses in the chair of her father’s old study. The tears come hard and fast as she clutches the letter to her chest. 

 

Her mind is racing with relief over Livia’s wellbeing and fear because her sister is alone and away from her. The news about her aunt doesn’t surprise her as much as it and she knows she needs to tell Isabella soon, warn her that there might be others plotting the demise of Verona, but she make herself move from the room. She looks at the painting that hangs over the fireplace, one of the few things that survived the months of disuse, and remembers her family. They used to be so happy and now she’s alone. 

 

Her sobs over take her, stealing her breath from her. 

 

-

 

She doesn’t know how long she’s sat there, sobbing and gasping for breath, when warm hand clutch her own over her heart. 

 

Benvolio’s worried gaze fills her vision, but his voice is soft. “Rosaline,  _ Rose _ , love, what has happened? What has done this this to you?” He brushes a hand over her cheek, his fingers pushing her curls back. 

 

“Livia,” she chokes out, barely. The letter crumples further in her grip. 

 

Benvolio’s eyes drift to it, but he doesn’t move to take it from her. Instead, he slides closer to her and pulls her into his arms. Rosaline wants to be stronger, wants to not need the comfort he’s so kindly giving, but she so tired. She lets herself get picked up and he moves them to the divan sofa that she brought into the office. 

 

He holds her until her sobs quiet and she gets her breath under control. 

 

His hands are soft against her back, soothing and gentle. He holds her like she’s precious and she feels the words he whispers against her temple in comfort. He calls her  _ love _ and tells her it’ll be okay, that they’ll find Livia, that _ he’s here _ , and it hurts Rosaline how much the last matters to her. 

 

She turns her fact into his neck and breathes in. Benvolio’s warm and his scent is comforting. His hands slow on her back and cup her face, tilting it up to his. 

“Oh, Capulet, how I hate to see you cry.” He kisses her forehead. She feels centred by it. 

 

Rosaline sniffs, leaning her face into his hand. “I did not-- It surprised me. I thought she was gone forever.” She sits up and wipes at her face. Benvolio gives her a moment to steady herself. He knows her well, somehow, by now. Understands her need to need few moments to get her thoughts together, to pull her armour around her again. 

 

When she hands him the letter, her hands are steady again. 

 

He reads it silently and looks up at her with sad eyes when he’s done. 

 

_ How easy is her husband to read _ , Rosaline thinks,  _ it’s all in his eyes _ . Clear and blue like the sky, allowing every emotion to swirl past them easily. 

 

He feels responsible for everything that’s happened since he asked her to go away with him that night. He carries every terrible act since then on his shoulder and in his soul. It reflects out of his eyes everytime she looks at them. That, and the affection he has for her. He doesn’t take liberties, but she knows all the little thing he’s done since they’ve moved into her old house to make her happy. The staff tells her, but she has two eyes of her own, and she catches the flowers in vases around the house. Peach roses, her favourite. The honey bread and spiced tea. The way the house looks slowly more and more whole every day. The rooms that had been ransacked now clean and tidy. 

 

It’s Montague money he’s using, and she wants to hates she’s accepting their money, but then she remembers she’s a Montague now too. She’s a Montague by choice, and he loves a Capulet by twist of fate.

 

Where Romeo and Juliet could not be happy, somehow, by some luck, Rosaline and Benvolio are a near estimation of it. 

 

“I don’t know what do, Benvolio. I had thought about it, I had plans of how to bring her back home, but now I don’t know. She loves him? I don’t know how she can. And the news of my aunt? I’m not surprised, but it still hurts to know she cared nothing for our family.” She twists her hand in her dress. She still has her apron from the washing on.

 

Benvolio covers her hands with his. “We’ll get to the bottom of it, Capulet. We knew that there were more co-conspirators at work in this plot and now we have proof of one. We’ll take this back to Isabella and see what her thoughts her.” 

 

Rosaline nods. 

 

“And then we’ll find a way for Livia to come home,” he says, squeezing her hands. 

 

She looks at him and see the determination in his eyes. It warms her heart and soothes the ache in her chest. Sliding closer to him on the divan, she tucks herself into his side. Benvolio wraps his arm around her shoulder and kisses her temple. It gives Rosaline the strength to ask the question she’s feared the most since Livia’s elopement. 

 

“What if she doesn’t want to,” she whispers, tracing Benvolio’s ring with her thumb. “What if she loves him despite it all, what if she stays?”

 

He’s quiet for a beat, his breath hitches, and then he holds her closer. “Then, I do not know, love, but you will not be alone. I promise you that. You’ll have me and we’ll figure something out. We’ve made a pretty good team so far, haven’t we?”

 

Rosaline smiles. “We have.” She tilts her head up and swallowing, reaches up to cup his cheek. Benvolio tenses. He’s easy with his affections towards her, but she’s held herself back and they both know it. It’s why he doesn’t kiss her the way she still thinks about. He’s been waiting for her. In a way, she’s been waiting for herself too. Her feelings have been a maze to walk through, memories and this new heat in her gut when she looks at her husband twisting her about, and she’s not to sure she’s figured her way out of it completely. 

 

But she’s closer.

 

His cheek is warm and scratchy under her palm. He leans into it ever so slightly and Rosaline’s heart speeds up at the way his lashes flutter. 

 

“I do not know how I would have survived these passing months without you,” she says, pressing their foreheads together. “Even when we fought you were still the one thing, besides Livia, I was sure of and I’m glad you are here with me now.”

 

Rosaline looks into Benvolio’s eyes and sees how the blue swirls with hope and uncertainty. Leaning forward, she lets her eyes close as she presses their lips together, her heart pounding, her skin warm, and her soul surprisingly at peace. Benvolio’s intake of breath is sharp, but his surprise passes quickly, his lips softening against hers. She can feel his smile stretch under her mouth. His arm shift to pull her closer and Rosaline lets herself fall into the circle of her husband’s arms. 

 

In them she find the safety she’s felt without since her father’s death. In them she knows there’s the strength to fight alongside her as the city swirls with turmoil. In them, she finds her love reflected back with a certainty she’s never known outside her family before. 

 

As they part, Benvolio keeps their foreheads pressed together and nudges her nose with his. His smile echoes her and in this moment, Rosaline let’s herself to love her husband fully and ardently with no fear of the world around them.


End file.
